PETER PAN
It was Saturday morning, and Ruth sat down at her desk to write
her regular letter to her father. She laid out her paper, fitted a
fresh pen into the silver holder, and then looked at the calendar.
As she found the date her eyes grew very thoughtful.
"Six months to a day," she murmured. "How fast the time has gone."
Then she began her letter.
"Glenloch, March 17th.
"Darling father:
"I wonder if you remember that just six months ago to-day you and
I were celebrating your birthday together, and that I was heartbroken
when you told me what was going to happen to us. Nothing could
have made me believe then that I could be so happy now, or that
the time could possibly seem so short. I wonder if you would think
I've changed any. I'm an inch taller than I was when you saw me
last, and I weigh ten pounds more, so I've accomplished something
in six months. I don't believe you've grown an inch; at least not
an up and down inch.
"I just wish you could taste some of my cooking. If I went out as
cook now, I shouldn't have to feed the family on birthday cake,
for I can make perfectly scrumptious little baking-powder biscuit,
and my salad dressing is a joy forever. I can do other things, of
course, but these are my specialties. Oh, and I can make a maple
fudge that just melts in your mouth. I sent a box of it to Uncle
Jerry, and he wrote back right off that I could consider myself
engaged as cook whenever he set up housekeeping.
"I read almost every bit of your German letter myself, though I had
to get Aunt Mary to help me out once or twice. It made me want to
study all the harder to see how quickly she read it. It's ten times
easier now to work hard on French and German, because I hope that
I shall need to use them before very long. Oh, Popsy, won't it
be joyful when I can come over to you!!!! It would take more than
four hundred exclamation points to express my feelings, so you must
please imagine the rest of them.
"I don't want to make you too proud of your daughter, but I must
just tell you that I got an A in French history last month. We have
a dandy history teacher who makes everything interesting, and then
I keep thinking that I must know all about these things before I
go abroad, and that helps lots.
"More than anything I love the Gym. I just wish you could see Miss
Burton; she's the dearest, sweetest teacher I ever had, and so
pretty that I want to look at her all the time. She's a splendid
teacher, too, and the girls are all wild over the lessons and over
her.
"I take only one violin lesson a week now, because, though you may
find it hard to believe, I am really working too hard at school to
go into Boston twice a week. I practice every day and Arthur and
I play together almost every evening. Arthur is so changed and so
jolly now. He uses only one cane and says he means to walk without
any soon. He acts as if he couldn't get enough of the boys and
girls, and his father and mother look perfectly radiant whenever
their eyes light on him. He's gone back to school, and he and Joe
are making all sorts of plans about college.
"I suppose you never noticed that I didn't tell you what Uncle Henry
gave me for a Christmas present, or perhaps you thought he didn't
give me anything. Well, he did give me one of the very nicest presents
I ever had, and that was a course of lessons at a riding-school in
Boston. I was perfectly delighted, and I knew I shouldn't have to
ask you about it because you've always meant to have me learn to
ride. I've been going in every Wednesday since Christmas, taking
a violin lesson first, and then meeting Uncle Henry to go to the
riding-school. He said he was so particular about borrowed articles
that he would never let me go alone. My, but it was hard at first,
and I thought I never should learn to hold my whip and my reins
and myself in the proper way. I had such a darling horse, though,
and it was such fun, that I couldn't help sticking to it, and now
the riding-master says that I really ride very well.
"A week ago Uncle Henry surprised me by buying the horse I've been
riding and he's out in the stable this very minute. He thinks I'm
quite ready to ride with him out here, and he's coming home to lunch
so that we can start off early this afternoon. That last sentence
sounds rather mixed. Of course I mean that it's the horse that's
in the stable, and it's Uncle Henry, not the horse, who's coming
home to lunch.
"There, that cat is out of the bag and I feel better. I suppose
they'll all laugh at me for telling, but I don't care. I thought
at first it would be great fun to surprise you after I got over
there, but I might have known I couldn't keep such a lovely secret
all that time.
"Oh, I almost forgot to tell you that Aunt Mary said her part of
the present was to be my riding-habit, and the first time Arthur
went into Boston he brought me the prettiest little riding-crop
I've ever seen.
"Mercy! My arm's stiff from writing so much, and my little watch
tells me that it's almost lunch-time. I never wrote such a long
letter before and I do hope you'll be properly grateful for it.
I've known you to complain of the shortness of my letters, but you
can't this time.
"With heaps of love to you, I am "Your faithfulest, lovingest chum,
"Ruth."
"There! The dearest of fathers ought to be satisfied with that,"
thought Ruth as she slipped her letter into the envelope, sealed
it and stamped it. "Now for lunch and then my ride."
"Isn't he a beauty, Arthur?" called Ruth, coming out on the piazza
in all the glory of her dark-blue habit, high boots and gauntlet
gloves.
Arthur, who had a pocketful of sugar and was dividing it impartially
between the two horses, turned at the sound of the voice and gave
her an approving glance.
"He certainly is," he answered, "and he's going to have a very
swell-looking rider, too. I like that blue dress and that neat
little hat."
"Glad you're suited," laughed Ruth. "He ought to have a name; do
think up a nice name right off now so that I can have something to
call him this afternoon."
"I like your way of ordering me to think up things on the moment,"
protested Arthur in an aggrieved tone.
"Of course you like it. Do think quick, because Uncle Henry is just
ready to start."
"Peter Pan," suggested Arthur. "And then he'll never grow old and
bony and lame."
"Clever boy," said Ruth approvingly as they started off. "That name
suits me exactly. Can't you just see him doing a shadow dance with
me on his back?"
Arthur watched them until a curve in the road hid them from sight.
Then as he started toward the house a familiar voice hailed him, and
he turned to see Dr. Holland looking at him with approving eyes.
"Pretty nice looking pair of riders, aren't they? Why don't you go
in for that sort of thing, my boy?"
"I shall just as soon as you say I can, doctor."
"Go ahead then, with my blessing. You've always been so used to
riding that the exercise will be the best thing in the world for
you. Leg still pain you any?"
"A little, but it's growing stronger every day."
"Well, keep it up, young man, and you'll come out all right," said
the doctor heartily as he drove off, leaving Arthur to find his
mother and tell her the good news.
In the meantime Ruth and Mr. Hamilton were riding at an easy pace
down the road past the old mill. It was a rare day for March. The
snow had been gone for a fortnight, and to-day the air and sunshine
were full of promises of spring.
To Ruth the ride was a perfect delight. She was happy because the
sun shone, and because fleecy clouds were chasing each other across
a blue sky. She loved the hint of spring in the air, and the fresh
breeze which blew over the lake. Most of all she delighted in Peter
Pan, who responded to her slightest touch, and flew over the ground
so smoothly and surely that fear was impossible.
As they rounded the lake and came out on the side nearest the centre
of the town, Ruth saw a house which seemed strangely familiar to
her.
"Why, it's Mrs. Perrier's house, and there's Marie out on the
porch," she said in great surprise. "I haven't seen it from this
side before and I didn't know it at first. Do you think we might
stop and see Marie for just a few minutes? I haven't been to see
her for two weeks, and I'm afraid she'll think I'm neglecting her."
Mr. Hamilton looked at his watch. "Yes, we shall have time to make
a short call on that sunshiny porch and still get you back in time
for Miss Burton."
Marie was sitting in a steamer chair, well wrapped up, and so
absorbed in her work that she saw nothing of her guests until they
were almost at her side. When she looked up a warm color flushed
her pale cheeks, and she tried to conceal the sheet of paper on
which she had been working.
"This is Mr. Hamilton, Marie, and this is my friend, Marie Borel,
Uncle Henry," said Ruth quickly. "You two should be very good
friends, for Uncle Henry's just been telling me how fond he is of
Switzerland."
"Ah, do you love my country?" cried Marie, all her embarrassment
forgotten. "It ees so good to hear that; I am sometimes so homeseeck
for my mountains."
"Indeed I do love your mountains and your lakes and the good
people who live there," responded Mr. Hamilton with a warmth that
delighted Marie's homesick heart.
"But I must speak to my aunt," said Marie struggling to rise from
her many wraps. "You will perhaps come into the house." "No, sit
still, and I'll tell Mrs. Perrier we're here," urged Ruth. "We can
stay only a few minutes, and we like to sit here in the sunshine."
She disappeared into the house, and while she was gone Mr. Hamilton
set himself to the pleasant task of getting acquainted with the
shy girl whose wonderful dark eyes looked so confidingly at him.
It needed only a few sympathetic questions to induce her to tell
him of the little town nestled at the foot of the Jura Mountains,
of the sparkling lake on which she used to look from her chamber
window, and of the Jungfrau, seventy miles away, but seeming so
near in clear weather.
"I know just where your old home is, Marie," he said kindly, when,
in her pretty, broken English, she had pictured her birthplace to
him. "I don't wonder that you are homesick, for even I often long
for a sight of those beautiful mountains."
"It gives me much good to talk of them to some one who knows how
beautiful they are," answered Marie simply. "But here comes Miss
Ruth, and--"
"Now, Marie, don't you scold me," interrupted Ruth gaily. "I just
couldn't help bringing out your lace pillow and your embroidery
for Uncle Henry to see."
"Oh, a gentleman," laughed Marie, "a gentleman, he does not care
for fine stitches."
"There, isn't that beautiful, Uncle Henry?" persisted Ruth. "And
what do you think? I've learned to make a very simple pattern."
"You don't say so!" said Uncle Henry, much impressed. "Couldn't
you--couldn't you make me something to wear?"
"What shall it be?" laughed Ruth. "I'll tell you. If you'll promise
to have a black velvet suit and wear it to the office every day,
I'll make you a large lace collar to wear with it."
"I'll let you know when I leave the order for the suit. It will be
time enough to begin. on the collar then," answered Mr. Hamilton,
much amused at the idea. "I'm afraid we must be saying good-bye
to Marie now," he added with a glance at his watch, "or you won't
have any time to rest before starting out again."
But just then Mrs. Perrier came out on the porch carrying a tray,
and nothing would do but that Mr. Hamilton and Ruth must taste her
home-made grape-juice, and the little cakes made from a recipe she
had brought from Switzerland. They were almost as thin as paper,
and so deliciously crisp and toothsome-looking that Ruth couldn't
resist them.
"Oh, Uncle Henry," she cried impulsively, "I am so hungry: and you
have a hungry look, too, hasn't he, Marie? Never mind if we don't
get home quite so soon; I can rest while I'm eating."
"Just as you say, my dear," answered Mr. Hamilton with proper meekness.
He was having an unusual and interesting experience himself, and
didn't in the least mind staying.
The little lunch was delicious, and Ruth sighed as she finished the
last cake she felt she could possibly eat. Mr. Hamilton stooped to
pick up his whip before saying good-bye, and as he did so dislodged
a book which was tucked into the steamer chair. It fell to the
floor, and a paper fluttered out of it and floated almost to Ruth's
feet. She picked it up to return it, but her eye was caught by a
pencil sketch which stood out boldly.
"Why, Marie," she cried in astonishment, "did you draw this? It's
that little piece of the shore of the lake that I've been looking
at while I've sat here. Do let me show it to Uncle Henry."
"Eet ees nothing," faltered Marie, full of shy embarrassment. "I
cannot make eet look as I see eet."
Mr. Hamilton studied the little sketch with kindly, critical eyes.
Then he apparently forgot that there was need to hurry, for to
Ruth's surprise he sat down again by Marie's chair, saying earnestly:
"Have you more sketches in that book I knocked down, child? Let me
see them if you have."
His manner was so serious, so compelling, that Marie gave him the
book without a word. There were sketches in pencil and sketches in
water-color. Those in the first part of the book were tiny drawings
of the interior of Mrs. Perrier's house, with now and again that
smiling woman herself in a characteristic pose. Once in a while
there was a sketch in color of mountains, lake and sky done evidently
from memory. All crude and faulty, but showing so much strength,
so much individuality and color-sense, that Mr. Hamilton turned
the leaves of the little book again and again, and finally laid it
down reluctantly, saying:
"If I only had time, Marie, I should like to talk them all over
with you. There is so much promise in them that you must keep on
trying; you must study as soon as you are strong enough."
"I am so glad that you think I am not wasting my time when I do
such things," she answered wistfully. "They will never look as I
want them to look, but I cannot help trying. I shall hope to study
some day."
Marie walked to where the horses were tied to show Ruth how much
she had improved, and as they turned to wave a last good-bye to her
Mr. Hamilton said impressively, "Ruth, do you know we've discovered
a genius there. I firmly believe that girl will make a name for
herself some day. We must help her."
"I should like to," answered Ruth, who all the way home seemed to
be in a brown study.